


11. Ouija

by strangeera



Series: Blew It [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, High School, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeera/pseuds/strangeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drugs, the internet, first kisses and the graveyard. demonic recession. sterek high school au. vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	11. Ouija

We're fucking with Stiles' ouija board on the floor of my bedroom and Stiles is wearing an oversized black t-shirt with a pentagram and the word “pizza” on it and he says he's feeling weird, like totally mystical man, and I'm wearing a navy Abercrombie polo shirt with nothing on it and no pants with black socks pulled up to my calves and basically I ache everywhere. The room smells like Stiles' dick and Burger King and my mouth tastes like Stiles' dick and old cigarettes and with a sigh I'm rolling my eyes and shaking another cigarette from the pack and lighting it with the lighter that now says You Were Here on it, and a palm tree. There's come on my thigh but it isn't mine. My asshole feels wet. Stiles says: “put your hand on the glass, Derek.” Stiles almost never calls me by my name anymore and the weight of it is a revelation. I'm feeling pretty heavy. Like I wanna hurt somebody. Inside my body: smoke.

 

“Stop fucking with me,” I choke and I'm so upset and wet and sticky but I sort of smile anyway and touch the glass and the glass on the ouija board sort of shudders beneath us. “Stop it,” I'm saying.

 

And two nights ago in the graveyard behind Stiles' house while I gave Stiles head beside a tombstone that looked like an eagle I was thinking about those people on TV that disappear forever and I think I was crying and centuries later when Stiles called me “babe” and came in my mouth and his come was dusty I realized something: those people didn't vanish, they fled.

 

“I'm not,” Stiles says. I'm noticing he's receding slightly: two demonic horns cutting into his hairline and I'm swallowing all this spit inside my mouth and my dick is hard. I'm feeling like totally fucking warm. “Ask the question,” he says.

 

“Your mom is dead,” I'm saying, sucking on the cigarette I don't even want and staring at the window. “Like, totally dead.” I take my hand off of the glass on the ouija board and, smiling, I say: “dust, man.” I'm rubbing my hard on between my legs and trying not to scream. Too warm. The lightbulb above us flickers. It does that though sometimes, when it rains.

 

“I'll drink your fucking blood,” Stiles says quietly. 

 

“Okay,” I say, smoking.


End file.
